Transcript
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Jake Brennan (1:07)
Disgraceland is a production of Double Elvis. This is a story about a rock and roll animal about the rock and roll animal. It's about debauchery so debaucherous that listing, all of it out here at the beginning of this episode won't do the insanity of it all justice. It's about a rock star we take for granted. He's always been there, on our radios, on our televisions, looking like they contrived his technicolor punk rock MTV image in central casting. But the truth is that look, that attitude and that rock star's songs were as authentic as it gets. And his behavior, his transgressions prove it. High speed car chases, destroyed hotel rooms, John Belushi overdosed and dead next door arrests, accusations of sexual deviancy, military extradition under forced sedation because he was just that fucking unhinged. This is a story about Billy Idol, a man who made great music. Unlike that music I played for you at the top of the show. That wasn't great music. That was a preset loop from my melotron called I Can't Believe how fucking hot that chick in that video is. MK2 I played you that loop because I can't afford the rights to How Am I Supposed to Live without you by Michael Bolton. And why would I play you that specific slice of no talent ass clown cheese could I afford it? Because that was the number one song in America on February 6, 1990. And that was the day that Billy Idol, after returning from what would go down as one of the most out of control rock star vacations of all time, ran a stop sign and crashed his Harley Davidson, nearly dying in the process. On this episode, a motorcycle crash, speedballs, a Bangkok bender to beat the band. No talent, ass clown, cheese and Billy Idol. I'm Jake Brennan and this is Disgrace. Alone and confused, Billy Idol awoke in a hotel room bed and the rising sun outside shown through the floor to ceiling windows violently piercing his eyes. His head was pounding. The phone started to ring and there was that voice again. A voice he thought he was just imagining, but now was convinced was somewhere in the room. A voice that was saying, out go the light. Billy shot up to a sitting position so fast that his brain, or what was left of it, sloshed around in his skull. He felt like he was going to vomit. He looked around the room. What a mess. Liquor bottles, pill bottles, empty vials that once contained one illicit white powder or another. Articles of clothing were strewn about, furniture was turned upside down, glass was broken and blood was shed. Wait, was that really blood? The phone finally stopped ringing and Billy looked around for whoever was talking but saw no one. Where the hell was he? And where the hell was Harry? Jesus Christ. He needed some dope. Something, anything. Again he heard the voice and again it sounded like it was coming from inside the room. And this time it was saying something different. This time it said boom. Boom. Suddenly there was a pounding on his door and he heard voices on the other side speaking a language he could not understand. He began to really panic. Now it wasn't unusual for Billy Idol to overdo it, to partake in some wild concoction of alcohol, heroin, cocaine and or pills that eventually knocked him out, only to wake him up with some big breasted bombshell at his side. But this was different. Everything was foggy and nothing was making sense. The knocking on the door intensified and Billy sprung to his feet and felt his knees wobble. He struggled to stay upright and as he tried to catch his balance, his hotel room door was kicked down and into the room flooded men in military gear. For a split second, Billy had a moment of clarity. This was the Thai army he was looking at. Shit, was he in Bangkok? The army men began to surround him like dog catchers cornering a mangy old mutt and they grabbed his arms and legs and wrestled him onto a hospital gurney. Billy knew he'd really fucked up this time. If only he could remember just how he'd wound up in this situation in the first place. He racked his addled brain. But before he could find any answers, he was being stuck with a long needle and delivered a very powerful sedative which sent his mind back not to the beginning of this three week bender, but to eight years earlier, all the way to 1981. Eight years earlier it was 1981 and Ronald Reagan was not dead, but punk rock was. The 40th president of the United States had been shot and wounded in Washington D.C. just days after 25 year old Billy Idol moved from London to New York City. Years earlier, when Billy was just a little boy and still going by his given name, William Broadcast, Billy's family relocated from their native England to Long island for his father's work. Even though they only lived there for four years before returning to the uk. In some ways this felt like a homecoming. But things were different now. New York, like London, had been forever changed by punk rock. Punk had been Billy's salvation once too. The thing that drove his teenage rebellion, that inspired and cut school even to stop talking to his father for two years. And Billy remained punk's avatar, really. His Gene Vincent Ducks ass hairdo dyed shockingly blonde. His leather fingerless gloves, his curled upper lip, his fists clenched in youthful defiance as the lead singer of the excellent London punk band Generation X. Billy Idol breathed the same air as the the Clash, the Ramones and the Sex Pistols. But even Johnny Rotten had left all of that behind. Now fronting Public Image Ltd. As John Lydon in New York City in 1981, the survivors were everywhere. Patti Smith, David Johansson, Debbie Harry. And now Billy Idol. Looking at a new world that very much resembled the one that he knew so well. The grime, the dirt. The disgusting bathrooms that smelled like last night's puke. The walls decorated by some spray paint Picasso stretches of wet pavement that reeked of garbage and piss. The little slots and tenement doors through which the man, once you were done waiting for him of course, handed you your fix. The fury may have been old news, but the filth remained. Billy Idol is subsisting on a not so steady diet of heroin and late night pizza slices. Living like an animal. Because that's what he was. A rock and roll animal obsessed with what punk music really and truly was when he got down to it, which was just rock and roll. Simple music that made you feel great. Simple music made by young ordinary people about their young, ordinary lives. Add to that the pulsing sounds of Alan Vega and Suicide, the orgasmic moans of Donna Summer all of it visceral, all of it as vibrant as punk once was, as essential as oldies but goodies like Tommy James and the Shawn Dells as Mony Mony. The music throbbed in his head as he descended into the heart of darkness, the Lower east side and some dude he'd just met with a.38 stuck in his waistband as his guide, his protection. Because scoring dope in New York City in the early 80s was no fucking joke. With the help of his armed companion, Billy Idol procured that week's smack and snorted it, as was his preference. And the euphoria hit, helping him forget about his girlfriend, Perry Lister, a smoke show redhead who was back in the uk, and also easing the guilt he felt about getting high with and fucking other women in her absence. And. And then those timeless oldies but goodies melodies flooding into his brain again. Billy sought out another junkie, a fellow lover of old rock and roll and punk rock alike, Lou Reed, and suggested they collaborate on some songs for Billy's debut solo album, which he was about to begin recording. Lou was into it, but he didn't come cheap. He told Billy that he charged not by the hour, but by every half hour. It was an insanely high rate. Higher than that. Low grade A street junk made you feel so Fuck that and fuck Lou Reed. Too true. Billy was used to a songwriting partner, which was how he came up with the material for Generation X, including their hit Dancing With Myself, which was technically recorded by his old band, Generation X, and only later re released under his own name, Billy Idolin, which also featured cameos from members of the Clash and the Pistols. But I digress. Billy was a solo artist now, with a new path to forge, which meant some things he'd have to go alone, like writing songs and so long before he became one of the biggest rock and roll stars in the world. Years before, he woke up in a luxury hotel room in Bangkok with no knowledge of how he got there or what he'd done over the course of three very long and debaucherous weeks with the local military literally knocking down his door, sedating him like his heroes in the Ramones once sang about, and strapping him to a gurney, Billy Idol left his new home of New York City. Without Lou Reed, without his girl Perry, without much but a record contract, Eddie took off for the warmer climes of Los Angeles, California, where the sun was shining and the birds were singing and the women were willing and the drugs were plentiful. In short, it was a nice day to start again. So every day I'M trying to squeeze in as much work as possible. I'm doing everything I can to keep motoring through that mid afternoon crash. I've talked about this with you guys before. I work out, I swim, I get a boost, but then a couple hours later I'm dragging. These are the moments as a former smoker when I just, you know, take a minute, light up, chill, collect myself, get some energy, go back to work. But I don't smoke anymore. So I pop in a Lucy nicotine pouch and bam. I'm alert. I'm focused on what I gotta do. And if it's late afternoon, that usually means recording ads like this one. Lucy breakers are pure nicotine and tobacco free and the capsules break into these flavor bursts. And my new go to flavor is mint. I'm now using the 8 milligram strength pouch. It hits me just right and I sail through the rest of my workday. Let's level up your nicotine routine with Lucy. Go to Lucy Co Disgraceland and use promo code Disgraceland to get 20% off your first order. Luci has a 30 day refund policy. If you change your mind again, that's Luci Co and use code Disgraceland to get 20% off. And here comes the fine print. Luci products are only for adults of legal age and every order is age verified. Warning. This product contains nicotine. Nicotine is an addictive chemical. Hey Discos, if you want more Disgraceland, be sure to listen every Thursday to our weekly after party bonus episode where we dig deeper into the stories we tell in our full weekly episodes. In these after party bonus episodes we dive into your voicemails and texts, emails and DMs and discuss your thoughts on the wild lives and behavior of the artists and entertainers that we're all obsessed with. So leave me a message at 617-906-6638, disgracelandpodmail.com or disgracelandpod on the socials and join the conversation every Thursday in our after party bonus episode.